One of a Kind
by DreamsAreMyWords
Summary: Albus Potter has just began his first year of Hogwarts, and is having trouble living up to his family name. Everyone in his family is a great Quidditch player, but no matter how hard he practices, he's just no good at it. One-shot day in the life of Albus


**A/N: McGonagall changed the rules and first years are allowed to play Quidditch (though they don't usually make the team) just FYI. **

**Enjoy!**

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"Catch it, Albus!"

Albus gasped as his arm swung through the air, his hand making a blind swipe for the little golden ball with wings twitching to and fro before him. He missed, his fingers scraping clumsily just over the top of the snitch. It zipped away, the sound of its frantically beating wings like a type of quiet taunting in his ears. He felt a blush working up from the back of his neck to warm his face and set his ears on fire.

Scowling in embarrassment, he pulled on the broom handle, turning his Nimbus 2015 with difficulty to face James, Rose, Fred, Gideon, and Roxanne. James, Gideon and Fred were snickering, but Rose and Roxanne looked sympathetic.

"Well, that was graceful." Fred said in a voice that was unsteady, full of laughter and in stark contrast to the blank, serious expression he was struggling to keep on his face.

James, however, seemed to have no inhibitions. He hunched over his broomstick, shaking with the loud laughter coming out of his mouth. "God, Al, that was _dreadful_."

"Oh leave him alone, would you?" said Rose reproachfully, flying over to hover beside Albus on her own Nimbus 2015. "He did well!"

"About as well as a Hippogriff with a broken wing," Gideon joked, and Fred and James sniggered again. "He's bloody horrible. You need more practice, mate."

"And he'll have more practice, won't he?" offered Roxanne. "He has a year before try-outs."

"Yeah but I'll be captain." James grinned.

"You will not," said Rose. "You'll only be a third-year. There's no way McGonagall will let you become captain that young."

James shrugged, still grinning as he lifted the handle of the broom, rising into the air a few inches before turning so he had to look back at them over his shoulder. "You never know, I could always convince Victoire to give me a bit of a boost," he said, and winked before shooting off, heading back for the castle.

"He's so thick," said Rose, shaking her head. She shifted her light blue eyes back onto Albus. "Honestly, you did fine. You're just a little new to it, that's all."

"No more new than you," said Albus bitterly as they descended and clambered off their broomsticks on the soft green grass of the Quidditch pitch. Fred, Roxanne and Gideon were still high in the air, throwing around an old quaffle as they zoomed across the sky. "And I'm really not new. I've played Quidditch all my life, you know my dad and mum always took us out for a friendly game in the garden all the time."

"Well, maybe it's just not for you, you know?" They handed their brooms back to Madam Talia, who stood beside a large container of brooms as she stared up into the sky with sharp amber eyes, overseeing the friendly practice. "My mum never played in school. I've seen her play a few times, when Hugo, Dad and I convinced her to have a friendly with us. She's terrible."

Albus felt his stomach lurch at the words, along with a burning sense of mortification. "But it has to be for me! Just look at it, it runs in my family! James made chaser easy, Roxanne made chaser, Fred made beater, my dad was the best seeker in the school's history, my mum was a great chaser and played professionally, my grandfather was a great seeker too, Uncle George was a good beater and so was my Uncle Fred when he was alive, Uncle Ron was a keeper and so on and so on!" He gripped his broom so tightly that his knuckles shone white. "It _has_ to be for me!"

"Maybe you have another talent?" suggested Rose. "Maybe you'll be good at potions. Or Wizard's chess."

Albus sighed. "But that's so _boring_."

Rose shrugged. "Either way, there's nothing you can do about it except practice, or move on. You're one of a kind, Albus. It's not the end of the world anyway, right?"

"Yeah, right." Albus sighed, looked up at the dusky sky and squinted at the speck high above that looked like it could be an owl. It could be a returning letter from his parents. He didn't know how to feel about that, really. Excitement, because he'd missed them and was eager to tell them about being sorted last week and his first week of classes. But dreading it in case they asked how friendly games of Quidditch were coming along. He didn't want them to know how rubbish he was at it. When they'd had friendly matches at home, he had often been on James' team and gotten away with his poor talent thanks to James' skill. But now, he would have to tell them that there was a very slim chance he would make the team next year. He had about as much skill on a broom as little Alice Longbottom did.

"Oi, Rosie!"

Albus and Rose turned to look back just as they reached the castle. Fred was hurrying to catch up, his odd Weasley broomstick in hand. Albus observed it once Fred had reached them and paused to catch his breath. It was definitely one of a kind. The broom was one of the strangest things he'd ever seen, to be perfectly honest. Unlike most brooms, it was wavy, the handle lifted up for a comfortable piloting and the seat curved in for an easier sitting. There were small buttons just beneath the handle that, Albus knew, allowed Fred to preform a multitude of odd things during practice or a game. He had once seen him press a button that caused a hatch near the broom bristles to open and release a colorless spray that would have been untraceable if not for the rancid odor it produced or the way that, after flying about with the spray behind him, the entire Ravenclaw team came down with an unexplained case of projectile vomiting.

"I wanted to ask you if you could do something for me." said Fred, straightening with a smile. He lifted the Weasley broom, shook it slightly and turned it to gesture at the buttons. "Do you think you could jinx this to where when the container opens, you can't tell? Like make it totally undetectable?"

"Preform a bedazzling hex so even when it opens it gives the appearance of being closed?" Rose crossed her arms, shut her eyes and nodded. "Of course I could do that." She opened her eyes, narrowed them. "But I'm_ not_ doing it. You know it's against the rules."

"Oh come on, I won't tell anyone you did it. Please Rose," Fred begged, bending his long, gangly legs to clasp his hands together before Rose plaintively, sunlight glinting off his vividly red hair. "If Madam Talia catches me doing it again I'll be kicked off the squad!"

"Then don't do it again! It's not fair to the other players!"

"Blimey, Rosie, we're playing Slytherin, you don't think they'll be cheating?"

Rose's eyes flashed, reminding Albus both of his Aunt Hermione. It seemed to remind Fred of the same, for he seemed to cower before her though he stood nearly a full two heads taller. "Slytherin will be cheating the same way they always do; by fouling! _You_, however, will be exploiting your father's product, which none of _them_ could possibly get, therefore giving you an obvious advantage over them that makes you a _cheater_, Fred Weasley!"

"Alright, alright!" he said loudly, cutting across her. He shook his head in disbelief, stomping past them. "Point across, bloody hell."

Rose watched him enter the castle, glaring after him a full five seconds after the doors closed after him. Albus cleared his throat. "Er, Rose?" She snapped back to attention, shifting her gaze back onto him. He nodded toward the doors. "Fancy going in now?"

"Oh—oh, yes. Sorry."

He shook his head to signal all was fine, and then together they made their way to the Great Hall.

After a hearty helping of roast, mash, garden peas and treacle tart, Albus sat back in his chair, sleepily satisfied. One of the best things about Hogwarts was the food. Uncle George had told him once that it was made by tons of house-elves that worked in a kitchen that you had to tickle a fruit to get to. Personally Albus didn't believe it—especially since James had agreed with George. James was always pulling his leg.

_ Speaking of James,_ Albus thought as his brother strode in, a smug expression on his face as he tucked a folded piece of parchment into his cloak pocket. As he passed by Albus, Albus swiftly snatched the parchment out of the pocket. James spun round, gripping Albus's wrist.

"What are you doing?"

"What's this?" asked Albus, yanking his arm out of his brother's grip. Rose, Gideon, Fred and Roxanne, who all sat around and across Albus, looked up from their plates to watch. Fred and Gideon gave devious grins when they saw the parchment. Curious, Albus unfolded it – to see nothing more than a blank face. He turned it, scrutinizing it and finding nothing. "It's just a piece of parchment?"

"Not just a piece of parchment, Al, "said James, lowering his voice as he jerked the parchment out of Albus's hands. Albus leaned forward to catch his next words. "I nicked this out of Dad's desk drawer just before we left to catch the train. Fred asked his dad if he knew what it was. It's special."

"But what is it?" persisted Albus, desperate to know, especially if it belonged to his father.

"Oi, keep quiet!" came Fred's voice from across the table. He looked over each of his shoulders before meeting Albus's gaze. "We don't want every wanker knowing about it, yeah?"

Albus nodded, dropping his voice to a whisper. "But what does it do, exactly?" he asked.

"It's a map," said James. "But I'm not telling you anymore about it until we're in the common room." He straightened, tucking the map back into his pocket. "Wouldn't want anyone else to take a fancy to it. It's one of a kind."

_One of a kind,_ Albus thought, turning back to his food. He gingerly picked up a spoon and glanced at his reflection in it, quickly before anyone could see. Under his fringe of jet-black hair, the skin of his forehead was smooth. His father's, he remembered, was marred with a single scar, shaped like lightning. His father was one of a kind.

"You ready to go, Albus?" said Rose from beside him.

Jolting back to reality, Albus nodded and stood up, gathering his bag and hitching it over his shoulder. As he turned, he spotted Scorpius Malfoy, sitting alone at the corner of the table. His white-blonde hair was slicked back from his pointed face. His pale blue eyes were aimed down at the treacle tart he was idly nudging with the prongs of his fork. Albus recalled that his father and Scorpius' father had not gotten along in school, something told to him by his Uncle Ron. But Albus' father was in Gryffindor, while Scorpius' father had been in Slytherin. Albus had heard rumors that Scorpius had wanted to return home, but his father wouldn't allow him. Apparently Scorpius was ashamed, and that was the main reason he had no friends. He was the first Malfoy not to be sorted into Slytherin in over a hundred years.

_One of a kind,_ Albus thought again, and made up his mind. He turned to Rose. "I'll catch up with you in a bit." he said hastily. He saw the shock on Rose's face as she watched him turn and head for Scorpius.

"Hey," he said.

Scorpius looked up, surprised. His cheeks took on a pink tint when he spotted Albus. "Hi," he said in a quiet voice.

"You want to walk back with us?" Albus asked, gesturing at Rose, who stood waiting.

Scorpius' eyes seemed to widen in fear. "I – I dunno. I don't think she likes me."

Albus glanced at Rose and saw how her eyes were narrowed, her lips thinned in distaste. Albus shrugged. "She'll warm up. Come on."

Scorpius thought it over for a moment before finally nodding and rising to his feet. "Alright." He picked up his dragon leather bag and walked alongside Albus as he approached Rose.

"Hi, " said Rose nervously, shifting her anxious gaze from Scorpius to Albus. "Er, ready?"

"Ready." Albus nodded. Together the three of them set off for the Gryffindor Common Room.


End file.
